


shatter

by bel_imperious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dissociation, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, a touch of angst, a very small and accidental amount of blood, at least I think it's dissociation - maybe it's more depersonalization?, idk man this is really just me soothing my hellbrain, mental health stuff if you squint, set in approximately the last quarter of book 3 I guess, thinking about aftereffects of dementors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bel_imperious/pseuds/bel_imperious
Summary: A night or two after the Shrieking Shack in book 3, Sirius lets Remus help him ground himself. Canon-divergent as fuck, probably.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	shatter

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the deal. I, a grown-ass adult, had never read the Harry Potter books before. I was a bookworm as a kid, but I was very particular, and to be honest I think I always took a pretty irritating lonely-snobbish-gifted-kid pleasure in Not Conforming or something. But now it's 2020! And we have quarantine! And my partner and I need a way to avoid reading Twitter before bed and spending the next few hours lying awake nursing our collective anxieties! So they've been reading the books to me, and I'm really enjoying them.
> 
> THAT SAID, what follows is probably a little weird? I am a simple man: I see a hurt, I comfort. So here I am, having only just finished chapter 18 of the third book, and I am filled with tender Remus/Sirius headcanons to scratch at a certain angst-slut itch. THIS DRABBLE PROBABLY DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE, because I'm certain Sirius isn't allowed to just go snuggle his boyf after this or whatever, but I WANT it, so here it is. 
> 
> (Apologies for any wild mischaracterizations or blatant fuckups about the setting - I am consuming these books just before bed at a very weird time and my auditory processing is not amazing, so it's super possible I've, idk, missed that Wizards Don't Need Showers or some other detail. Also, if you can bear it, please don't spoil the end of book 3 for me. I know this isn't accurate, I really really promise.)
> 
> (also this is one of the first fics I've ever written and the very first one I've ever published, so...be a little gentle if you can)
> 
> HERE IS THE TINY DRABBLE I hope it is cute and you like it also yes this AN is probably longer then the piece don't @ me

Sirius shivers. He's been doing that a lot, lately. Remus notices at once, and before Sirius knows what's happening there's a soft cardigan being draped around his shoulders, still warm from where it pressed against Remus while it hung draped over the back of his chair.

"Thanks, Moony," Sirius says.

His voice comes weaker than he expects it to. He's sitting in Remus' office, huddled in an overstuffed armchair, fingers curled around the cup of tea Remus brewed for him. Remus is grading exams, but he glances up from time to time to gaze at Sirius when he thinks he isn't looking, as if he needs to reassure himself that Sirius is really there.

Half the time Sirius really _doesn't_ notice - he's lost in his thoughts, trying to keep a grip on who and where he is. He is Sirius Black, and he is sitting here in his best friend's office (he remembers, idly, when it was another professor's office some twenty years ago, and he sat here for a different reason, receiving a lecture about some bit of roguery at which he'd been apprehended). He is not trapped anymore. He is not trapped anymore. He is _not trapped any-_

"Sirius!"

Remus cries out to him, and he hears a shattering sound, and then he feels a stinging in his fingers and a scalding on his legs and his hands, his hands are covered with blood- whose blood? - he casts about for help making this make sense- 

"Here," Remus murmurs, moving to him and gently taking what remains of the shattered teacup from his hands, "let me help. It's all right, Padfoot."

Sirius is still as Remus tosses the biggest shards of porcelain into the bin. Numbly, he watches as Remus gently takes Sirius' hands in his own, turning them over as he searches the bloody palms for splinters.

" _Lumos_ " Remus murmurs,and a little orb of light brightens his search, glinting at the end of his awkwardly-balanced wand. The light makes the blood stand out more brightly against his sallow skin, and Sirius wonders again whose blood it is.

It is _his_ blood, a voice in his mind protests, but that information feels irrelevant. What does it _mean_ , for Sirius Black to have his sliced open his own palms? That person doesn't seem real. That person feels very far away, like they belong in a half-forgotten story about some distant place.

"Sirius," Remus says firmly, for what Sirius realizes too late must be the third or fourth time. He realizes now that Remus has daubed his hands clean and bandaged them as well as he could - the gashes, it seems, were not very deep, and he scarcely even feels the pain now. Now Remus has pulled a chair up very close to his, and he's cradling Sirius' wounded hands in his own, trying to meet his gaze.

"Sirius. Let's go home," Remus says again, and there's a hurt and worry in his eyes that makes Sirius want to die of guilt. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,_ comes a voice in his chest, but it doesn't make it to his lips. Instead he nods and gets to his feet.

\---

Somewhere in the walk between Remus' office and his quarters, Sirius remembers some of who he is again. He feels the sting in his hands and a flush of shame at the memory of Remus tending to him, but then they reach their destination and his mind turns to other things.

Remus lends him a soft pair of sweatpants to replace his drenched trousers, and something about how fragile he feels makes Sirius move to the bathroom to put them on. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and suddenly he is conscious of nothing more than how _filthy_ he is, greasy hair lying limp against his pale, gaunt cheeks.

"Remus," he calls, "I'm going to take a shower." And then he peels away his tea-soaked trousers and his ragged shirt, carefully unwinds the bandages from his hands, and turns the water on.

Probably he should have expected the shock he feels at warm water raining gently on his skin. Probably he should have thought of the other shocks he's had since being back at Hogwarts - the way it hit him when Remus first fixed his tea the way he used to like it, with milk and honey, and the sweetness was too much to bear - the way he shivers sometimes in Remus' arms, because the pressure of a kind embrace feels overwhelming - but he didn't, and now he's standing beneath the spray and his whole body is trembling. He feels in his limbs a kind of tingling, like pins and needles, like an extremity waking up after having fallen asleep. 

He reaches for a cloth and begins to work the soap into a lather, moving gingerly with his injured hands until he realizes the soap seems not to hurt them.

The soap is rich and foamy, and the cloth relatively soft, and as he moves the lather in little circles across his body to scrub away twelve years of grime, he realizes that the tingling is _pleasure_. The feeling blossoming open inside him from where it has been folded tight is _comfort_ , and it _aches_ , and now his throat is tight and his knees are weak and he leans against the shower wall as he starts to cry.

When Remus pokes his head in, Sirius is curled up on the shower floor, great heaving sobs tearing out of him.

"Just thought I'd bring you a towe- Sirius?"

His bright tone dims with concern, and he slips into the little bathroom, setting a towel down on the counter.

"Sirius, Padfoot, what is it? What's wrong?"

Sirius only shakes his head, and Remus makes up his mind. He strips down to his underthings and slides open the glass shower door, sitting down and drawing Sirius into an embrace.

"I'm here, Padfoot," he murmurs, and Sirius nods, shifting closer and clinging to Remus' chest. Remus cradles him close under the warm, gentle shower spray, humming softly and stroking his hair until Sirius has cried himself out.

**Author's Note:**

> I barely even go here but I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading <3


End file.
